Disturbia
by Sarah Rose Serena
Summary: The Butterfly Effect started it all. I am Become Death brought about realization and the end of denial. And Eris Quod Sum ended everything before anything could begin. Deception, Truth, & Fate come full circle. Claire/Peter out of tangent time.
1. Part 1: The Butterfly Effect

**"_D__angerous Desire__s"_**

_**Disturbia**_

_Heroes_

_Part 1: The Butterfly Effect_

"I always loved you." She spoke the words with regret, already resigned to fate. And then she pulled the trigger. She was aware before she shot that he would stop it; the odds were just too imbalanced. She was glad. She could tell herself she went through with it, she took the shot. And he'd be alive, he'd have a chance. She couldn't let him persuade her, he was a terrorist, and he was unrealistic when it came to hope. No matter how the years had hardened him, her Peter would always be the dreamer. But she wanted him to have the chance.

And when she blinked, and realized he was gone, her hand was empty, and the shot had ricocheted, that part of her that had to always be turned off, pushed aside by the mission was relieved.

…

The moment he saw her, standing determinately in front of an oncoming train, camera cued, he knew where he had gone wrong. The butterfly effect: he answered past Peter's phone when she called, he was abrasive and dismissive, where _her_ Peter would have been comforting and assured. She would have been protected when she was supposed to be, and she wouldn't be here, trying to kill herself. His seemingly irrelevant action, just one small step in the wrong direction at the wrong time, had created a ripple. In an attempt to keep her away from becoming the woman he knew better than anyone in _his_ world, he had unintentionally pushed her further to the point of no return.

He swept her up into his arms, removing her from the path of danger, and jumped to his feet after they went rolling to the ground on an ungraceful landing. They walked for a few minutes, as she pleaded with him to save her once more, and he derisively shut her down. He saw it in her eyes, though all he was doing was trying to protect her, everything he did, every single miniscule detail of every choice he made was only further implementing what he was so futilely struggling against. He couldn't save her, and he couldn't accept that.

Rebuffing her requests and keeping her at a cold distance when her haunted eyes were begging him to be the Peter she needed, _her_ Peter. Just another way the butterfly effect has ripped out his heart and all hope for any chance. Everything went as intended as he teleported away, leaving her alone in that field.

It would have been left at that, the extent of the damage he'd already caused instead of only worsening it all by continuing his futile pursuit. But he couldn't let it go. He couldn't resist. Seeing this young Claire, this innocent Claire, who she was before the world hardened her, reminding him of the woman he fell in love with. Those warm green eyes and that sad little smile. It had been far too long since he'd seen that smile. Varied versions of it, hardened and bitter, promises of threats, misery and death, the original sad smile, still warm and beautiful in a soft way had been chipped away slowly, violently.

He materialized, returned to her as she stood with her back to him, looking out over the landscape in hopelessness. She spun around to face him, sensing him as he moved closer, rapidly banishing the distance between them. Skilled reflex and a quick movement had an arm snaking around her back, tugging her into him, and another perfectly placed hand at the back of her neck, tangled in remnants of a messy ponytail, and he had her. Her small body was pressed against him, still so warm and so very responsive, replacing the unyielding jagged edged being from his memories.

She pulled back first, breaking the kiss out of shock rather than disdain or protestation. Her hands gripping his shoulders as she distanced herself from him, mere centimeters, but it was enough to clear her head at least partially. Her emerald eyes, narrowed against the harsh sunlight, looked up at him in bewilderment, mind racing, unable to form any coherent thoughts in string theory. Golden locks blew in the strong wind, grazing against her face as they stood their in that field, bright daylight contrasting sharply to what belonged in shadows.

"Who are you?" The words fumble out of her mouth by pure instinct alone, her eyes searching his face desperately, knowing something was missing, yet unable to figure out what it was.

"Peter," His reply came automatically, too quick for total truth, too simple for a complete lie.

"…Not my Peter," She denied, shaking her head softly as her fingers dug into his shoulders, in a silent protest to the thought of his retreat, though he'd made no move to do so.

"No." They stare at each other in silence before she lurches upwards, and kisses him again. He holds her close, deepening the kiss and teleporting them away from the field without thought. The Butterfly Affect be damned… he already was.

...


	2. Part 2: I am Become Death

**"_D__angerous Desire__s"_**

_**Disturbia**_

_Heroes_

_Part 2: I am Become Death _

"Trying to teleport? Not with my friend here." Her words rang out in the hollow morgue as she moved closer to the two parallel dissection tables, both housing a Peter. Her smile was cold and unshakable, the last touch to the unbreakable shield around her, keeping out everything and anything and keeping in her emotions. The only piece of her seeping out in her eyes was the bitter anger she used to keep everything else at bay.

The Haitian stood close by, her constant companion, loyal and silent. The only one left she had any kind of connection to, and even then, there was no attachment allowed.

"What happened to you Claire? How did you get here?" The displaced Peter asked her, another reminder of everything she fought so hard to ignore. Unwelcome emotions and memories of the old world, the world she had let go long ago, the world he came from, was all his presence was to her. Claire licked her lips and swallowed thickly, inhaling deeply as she constrained herself. Her eyes darted to the side, taking in the entire room while avoiding focusing on anything particular, and her head angled to the side until the Haitian was in her peripheral vision.

"Leave us." She spoke softly, an edge to her quiet tone that would not be questioned. A moment passed as he outwardly remained stoic, consideration taking over him inwardly before he conceded with no visible acknowledgement, and left them alone.

"200,000 people died in Costa Verde today. Because of you," She spoke cruelly, that bitterness escaping her carefully confined haven as she crossed the room, measured steps until she was standing at his side. She picked up the scalpel and laid it across his bare chest silently, examining him with veiled consideration. On the outside, she was as stoic and impenetrable as she had been for the last three years. On the inside, it was chaotic turmoil as she fought against herself. It was harder to do with this Peter, the young, still so very innocent Peter she had trusted, and relied on. This Peter made her return to the Claire she had been, the Claire that had died because of the Peter lying on the next slab over. That Claire was supposed to stay dead and gone forever. She couldn't afford it any other way.

In an attempt at keeping in control, and resentful of his affect on her, she lashed out with a taunting smile and hand movements that teased of pain and misery as she dragged the scalpel along his skin, just enough pressure to make it hurt, not enough to break through as she drew patterns out over his chest. And when she spoke against her better judgment, but unable to resist her chance at revenge, her words were soft and gentle: a mocking of cruel hatred to match her evil smile and harsh eyes.

"You know, the last time we made love was the night before you betrayed us. Betrayed me," His stricken reaction only made her smile grow slyly, her head tilting teasingly as her eyes burned into him, her hand pausing over his heart. She ignored the memory of his words, his defense of trying to do the right thing, for her, for the world, as she had ignored them back then. His reasons didn't make a difference. It didn't matter.

"Oh that's right." She laughed bitterly, amusement at his suffering, and bit her lip. "You're from an earlier time. Too young to believe you'd ever reach the point where it just wouldn't matter anymore. You're morals and _fucking_ higher ground." She spat out the venomous words bitterly, looking away, towards the identical slab holding the body of her lover. Her eyes burned with hatred and vile regret as she struggled to control herself.

"Claire…" He murmured unthinkingly, desperately searching for words he couldn't even comprehend at that stage in his life. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't resist. She couldn't pass up her one chance at hurting him the same way he hurt her, of hopefully permanently damaging him. Most likely because… in the back of her mind, she knew what she would do when the time came for it.

"So, how does it feel, knowing that in a few years you'll be fucking your beloved niece?" Claire taunted amusedly, pulling back to enjoy the damage of her words, not waiting for a response as she dug the knife deeper, literally and figuratively as she broke skin, trailing the scalpel down his chest. The sight of the rich crimson trail of his blood at her hands brought a masochistic sense of calm over her, allowing her to regain that precious control and retreat inside her icy fortress of nothingness.

"Claire," Peter began, a new sense of determination in his voice, though his eyes were and probably would be for a long time to come haunted and anguished with guilt and regret and so much more so indefinable. "Claire, I'm sorry. Whatever I've done to you, how I've hurt you… I'm so-sorry." His words broke, and she watched as his head fell back to the cold steel, his eyes looking up at her, seeing her differently, reading something entirely new and unexpected into his wonderings for the woman standing before him, hardened and cruel, and for where the girl he knew had disappeared to.

"That's rich." She muttered, rolling her eyes at his reaction, even as her hands trailed down his arm, towards the restraints around his wrist. With a resigned sigh, she released him from the restraints, keeping her eyes away from his face as she dragged him off the table and to his feet demandingly. She reached for a tray in the corner, where a pile of clothes were sitting, and picked up the dark jacket sitting on top. She turned to him, shoving the jacket against his chest roughly. His eyes questioned her, burning into her in a way too similar to the way she remembered, and she huffed out an aggravated breath, angry at herself, at him, at this whole situation. Finally, telling everything in her to fuck off, Claire gripped the back of his neck, yanked him down to her, to meet her in a kiss. It was hard and rushed, angry and breathy, completely heartbreaking, and it would be the last she'd ever get, hopefully.

After only a few seconds, she shoved him away, pulling out the gun tucked securely at the small of her back, and aimed it square at his chest. "Go." She barked rudely, glaring scornfully at him, resentful for what he was making her do. She knew she was in big trouble, she knew she would never forgive herself. And she knew she really had no choice. And the next second he was gone.

…


	3. Part 3: Eris Quod Sum

**"_D__angerous Desire__s"_**

_**Disturbia**_

_Heroes_

_Part 3: Eris Quod Sum_

The sun beat down on them harshly, their goal set in sight, so close to reaching their destination. They stopped a few yards short, meeting each others eyes with small grateful smiles, a brief moment of understanding and camaraderie that would soon be forgotten. Their moment was shattered unexpectedly as a loud crash sounded from above the courtyard, shards of glass and a distant body soaring helplessly through the air, nearing the ground at an alarming rate. Claire and Elle spun towards the commotion as time seemed to slow ethereally for just a moment before he hit the ground. Claire's first instinct was to help, and it had her body rushing towards the fallen man, only faltering when she saw his face, recognized the fallen man.

"Peter!" She crouched down beside him, panicked. Confusion and worry washed over her as she waited for the healing that should have started already.

"He's not healing." Way to go Elle, state the total obvious. Claire glanced up to glare irritably at the other woman, too distracted by her panic to properly respond to the unnecessary statement. She lifted him to his feet gingerly as he explained that his powers had been stolen, and she asked Elle to help her get him to the car. Pulling his arm over her shoulders and supporting most of his weight, Claire pulled Peter out of the bushes and onto the pavement, towards the curb. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with making sure Peter was safe, she would have went after Elle when she abandoned them, chased her down and made sure she wasn't walking into a deathtrap all by herself.

_She can take care of herself._ Her mind reminded her, remembering the feeling of the electricity coursing through her as she deposited Peter into the passenger seat in a rush, wincing to herself as he flinched at the impact. With one last regretful glance back towards where Elle had disappeared to, Claire pulled away from Pinehearst.

…

As she waited anxiously for Nathan, Claire kept herself distracted by cleaning Peter's wounds, avoiding his eyes at all cost and praying her mind would just shut down. With the imminent peril past them and the adrenaline gone, the awkwardness she was feeling was taking forefront. Memories of the last time she'd seen Peter, this one and the other one, were fresh in her mind, making her twist uneasily. Claire found herself so grateful that he could not read her mind. _Talk about convenient… _

He twisted his torso to look over his shoulder at her as she wiped the blood away from a deep cut along his shoulder blade. Claire glanced up to meet his gaze, a knowing uncertainty passing between them in that second before she tore her eyes away, clearing her throat and focusing on his wound as they sat on the bed in his apartment.

"Um…" Peter began awkwardly, clearing his throat to strengthen his shaky voice as he avoided looking back at her again. "You um… when was the last time we… we spoke?" He questioned reluctantly, Claire's hand freezing over his shoulder. _Why would he ask that? Unless…_

"Peter, you've been doing some time-traveling lately?" At her words, he twisted around to face her, taking the damp rag from her hand and tossing it on the bed to make her focus her attention on him.

"So I did visit you… from the future." He choked out the words regretfully, wishing for anything but to have this conversation.

"Yeah…" There was something in her eyes that had him worried. He couldn't imagine what…

"Claire, is there something you want to tell me?" He questioned suspiciously, his mind racing over a prayed mantra that his suspicions were simply paranoia, and the sinking feeling nagging him was just an affect of his trip to the future.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" She countered just as suspiciously, frowning slightly and cocking her head to the side in contemplation as she regarded him cautiously.

"No." He replied automatically, shaking his head with vehemence and regarding her with forced nonchalance. Claire's eyes traveled down his body and up again till she reached his eyes. She didn't believe him. And for a moment they stayed frozen like that, him nervous of what she would say and whether he'd want to hear it or not, and her stuck in consideration. _Should she tell him?_ This was Peter, after all. And the guilt and shame that had been absent when it should have been at its strongest was just starting to eat at her now that she was with her own Peter again.

_He was already suspicious, but of what? He couldn't possibly assume… where would he get the idea even, if not from… but if he had encountered his future self after he left, maybe he… _

"Peter… I have to tell you something." She blurted out before she could stop herself, biting her lip and scooting back farther from him nervously. His eyes screwed shut, his wary dread proving justified. "I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have… but you see it was… and I just… god, this is horrible. How am I supposed to do this?" She faltered repeatedly, grasping for words that she had no idea how to express. She should just force it out. Simple… _'I slept with your future self.'_

"Oh god…" She groaned as the though ran through her mind. If it sounded that bad in her head, how horrible would it sound if she said it aloud? Claire put her hands over her face, and doubled over for a moment, taking deep breaths before she righted herself, meeting his cautiously reserved gaze with her own determined one.

"Alright, look…" She began resolutely, her voice strong and unwavering as she jumped up from the bed to pace the length of his bedroom. His eyes followed her intensely, but she refused to turn back to face him. She'd never get it out otherwise. So, without further adieu, in a no nonsense voice, forcibly detached and nonchalant, she rambled on, not stopping for breath until she'd said what she needed to.

"Right after Nathan was shot, and I was attacked by Sylar, you—you from the future, I mean—came to see me. I was at the train tracks. See, I realized after the attack that I couldn't feel pain, and I just had to… well, that's beside the point. You stopped me, and… and one thing lead to another. I know how bad that sounds, I know how wrong it was, especially considering that it wasn't really you and you had no choice in the matter, so it was kind of… I shouldn't have done that to you, I'm so sorry. But he was… and we just… it got out of hand, and my brain really didn't start working until the next morning, and by then it was too late." By the time she finished her faltering spiel, Claire's eyes were shining with unshed tears. Her pacing stopped as she turned slowly to find him staring up at her in a mixture of disbelief, horror, and guilt.

"You slept with him?" His words were pained and his voice was raspy. He suppressed a shudder but couldn't stop the grimace that affected him as he forced the words out. Claire bit her lip painfully to stop from crying, and looked down at her feet, away from his expression. She knew she shouldn't have told him, but she just had to. This was Peter, after all.

"I'm sorry." She choked out in a thick whisper, brushing her hair back from her face and looking upwards as she sucked in a shaky breath, pulling herself back from the brink of tears. It wasn't so bad. She was overreacting. She told herself, minimizing the emotions raging within her, forcing herself to shrug it off. It wasn't important right now. There were urgent matters that were way more important than her sex life. No matter how wrong it was.

Peter struggled for words, something, any kind of reaction. But what was he supposed to say? This whole thing was way too entirely fucked to even begin to know how to deal with. Time travel, betrayal, an evil Claire, _incest_… he slept with his _niece_. No, not just his niece… Claire. Which was even worse, because it wasn't just his niece, it was _Claire_. And now he's making her cry. It's just so entirely _fucked_.

"Claire." His brother's appearance in the doorway startled Peter from his thoughts, preventing him from having any sort of reaction to her words, and forcing him to shove it aside desperately. _Not the time, not the time_—his mind screamed. _Compartmentalize_… like a son-of-a-bitch.

"Nathan." She acknowledged after a moment, turning and crossing the room to hug her father. Peter was surprised by the normality in her tone, her expression betraying nothing.

Her father, his brother—_so entirely fucked_… And then there was his not-so-dead dad that just tried to kill him, and the long lost serial-killer-brother who tossed him out a window at Daddy's orders, yet still saved his life at the last second. Add in Nathan, Claire's confession, and the fact that he just lost his powers, and Peter was past the point of begging for a breakdown.

All through the confrontation with his brother, intensely aware of the way Claire leaned against the doorway, withdrawn and perfectly in control, Peter was just holding on by a shredded thread, grasping desperately, so sure that he would crack any second now. A breath of relief crashing through him as the door shut behind Nathan and his new mistress.

"We have to get out of here." Claire's words broke through the awkward silence that had settled over them from the moment Nathan left, leaving them alone once again. Peter looked over at her, leaning in the doorway to his bedroom as he shrugged on his jacket, his movements freezing as his body tensed at the sound of her voice, bringing back that panicky, close to a nervous breakdown, feeling rushing through him.

Meanwhile, she seemed eerily calm in the face of everything that was going on, decided even. Her capable coolness was reminiscent of the dark Claire he had met in that awful future. It unsettled him how she was able to look at him like that without revealing anything but her desire to keep him safe as she argued with him about going home. She was immovable, he could see that clearly, but it didn't stop him from trying to persuade her otherwise.

"_You have to stay…"_ The words got stuck in his throat as he came to the realization that it was too late for that, his body going cold at the thought that not only could he not prevent her from becoming that woman, because she already was that woman, but also that it was _him_ pushing her towards it.

"Stay what?" She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and widening her stance, unwilling to give in.

"…_Innocent_." It sounded pathetic even as he said it. It was too late for that. Claire looked taken aback for a moment, her eyes searching his face for meaning. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back carefully, licking her lips as she remained cautious of her next words. Claire turned back to him, her head tilted to the side as she met his gaze.

"Innocence is overrated." Just then there was an impatient knock on the door, and they both knew the conversation was over. It was time to run.

_The End_


End file.
